


Rebirth

by Shinocchi



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel), DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Domestic Bliss, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Haircuts, Hand Jobs, M/M, Nipple Play, Past, Post-Canon, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 10:12:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7840738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinocchi/pseuds/Shinocchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's never easy to let go of one's past, and it's never easy to move on. But there are higher, more important reasons than clinging onto his past, and making that <i>one</i> resolution with Aoba is equivalent to giving himself a new life.</p>
<p>Post-canon; one year after drama cd, where Koujaku & Aoba revisit Mainland, his past, and one important existence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rebirth

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, Koujaku! \o/  
> I'm so terribly late ;;;; 19.08 is actually a very significant date to me because it's not only of Koujaku's birthday but it also marks my DMMd fan fiction writing anniversary. My very first DMMd fic was published on 19.08.2013 (even though the fic is no longer existing haha!) and this year's 19.08 marks the fourth year of me writing for DMMd so I really want to write something quality for it.
> 
> And of course, Koujaku is my first love and will always have a special place in my heart. I present you with this story, and praying with all my heart hoping that you would find the happiness you so well-deserved with Aoba <3333

He knew it was still early; there’s no light struggling through the grime of the blinds. He could hear the drum of rain on the window pane as he let out a sigh, searching around for his Coil, searching for a small sense of hope that was his alarm clock telling him he might still have a few hours more to sleep.

The world was silent as if it ended in the night. The coolness of the early morning is deceptive; the sun has barely risen and the attitude is always cooler. Upon the petals of their bonsai sat hundred beads of water, each one a perfect sphere, glimmering pompously in the morning rays. He grunted as he stared at the time; he woke up just in time to hit his one-minute left of sleep. As he turned around, the man by his side was already awake, staring at the ceiling, seemingly deep in thoughts.

It took Koujaku a few moments to notice that Aoba was already awake. Simply lifting a smile, he reached out, playing with the dainty strands of hair on Aoba’s forehead before he leaned in to give his cheek a fleeting peck.

“Good morning,” he said, voice still raucous, eyes still misty.

There was something with a barely awake Koujaku that intrigued Aoba prominently. He exposed the rawest of expression, not the ones that he often wore when he was out on the street. In bed early in the morning, Koujaku was off his mask, wearing the most natural of expressions and Aoba had always been grateful that he was the one to witness this.

“Let’s get up,” Aoba said, lethargy completely gone. He was running out of time; he needed a few more moments of darkness, not to sleep, but to prepare, to pour his thoughts out like the running water in the shower, settle them down, and pack them back in again. Koujaku was probably way more edgy than him, despite him showing none of that.

Today was the official opening day of their shop; more like, it was the day that solemnized Koujaku’s very imperative step to move forward, and to bring his staggered self into a different, much deserving level.

He’d worked hard for it; Aoba had witnessed it all, from the moment he spoke to Aoba about it to the unceasing nights of researching and finally to when Aoba accompanied him for location hunting and ultimately becoming his best assistant in preparing the details while he focused on the bigger picture. And today, after one whole year of hard work, they’re finally going to make this very dream real, a reality that would lead them to a future they never thought was possible for them.

When he walked out of the shower, Koujaku was glancing out of the window. The morning was no longer grey but pacifying lavender and dazzling amber. Early morning mist began to clear, sunlight shone into the room, illuminating Koujaku’s gorgeous torso as Aoba gawked at the way he chuckled when Beni landed on his shoulder, nagging him about something Aoba couldn’t hear.

“Koujaku, I’m done,” he said after an indulgent cough. He already knew Koujaku was good-looking, but to catch Koujaku in his natural habitat still took the breath out of him.

“Oh, okay,” Koujaku said. He gestured Beni out of the way, offhandedly pulled a kimono from the foot of his bed and walked towards where Aoba was standing.

“Your hair—“

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll dry it properly,” Aoba grunted, pulling himself away before Koujaku could touch his hair.

Koujaku smiled bitterly. With another pat on Aoba’s shoulder, he walked into the shower, leaving Aoba alone to press a hand against his chest.

While he listened to the sound of running water from the bathroom, he walked towards the bed, staring half-heartedly at the empty space before he found his clothing on a chair. He dressed himself up inattentively, thoughts occupied, side-tracked from whatever he was doing when Koujaku came out of the shower just in time to see Aoba slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“You’re fast,” he commented pithily.

“You’re slower than usual,” Aoba retorted.

Koujaku strode towards the wardrobe without another word. He dressed himself promptly, motions as suave as usual and when he was finally done, he gave Aoba an upbeat grin, accompanied by a rough pat on the head before he said,

“Shall we?”

Midorijima was as bustling as usual. Waking up before the sun rise seemed to be a routine most residents in the town practiced. They waved as they passed by acquaintances, most of them giving them looks that were a mean for congratulatory. The agitation in Aoba long gone, he braced the most natural smile he could manage, smiling and waving as they paved their way towards where Koujaku’s new shop was located. They’d chosen one of the livelier part of town, not too far from where Benishigure’s base was, and not too far from where Heibon was either. Koujaku had told Aoba that there was no need for him to be ditching his job just so he could help him, and Aoba had promised that he’d definitely drop by if Koujaku ever needed help, although he found himself spending most of his free time in Koujaku’s place almost every day now.

Now that they’d be formally opening this very shop, Aoba was certain that his time spent with Koujaku would increase as well.

He was _really_ considering if he should talk to Haga-san about his working hours.

“We’re here.”

He was so engrossed in his own thoughts that it didn’t occur to him that they were already, literally, standing in front of their shop. It was nothing sumptuous, but it definitely portrayed part of Koujaku’s trait in it. It had the elegant look, and while it was unpretentious, it was sophisticated at the same time. When they stepped into the shop, it was already well-furnished, the interior design of it greeted them with enunciated smell of wood and freshness. Koujaku walked right to the counter, checking the displays while Aoba rushed to check the utilities. Everything was well strutted and well functioned, they’d worked late into the night the previous day just to ensure that everything was in the right place.

And now, there was nothing they could do but wait – which was the more tormenting part of the day.

“About what we discussed earlier…” Koujaku started, which Aoba was quick to respond.

“I’m not going to change my mind,” Aoba said.

“I don’t want to cause you any troubles,” Koujaku restated.

“It’s no trouble,” Aoba clarified. “As a start, I probably won’t be able to drop by too often but I guess we would be able to find a balance along the way.”

He already saw the qualms on Koujaku’s face when he said that, but he wasn’t going to allow Koujaku to say any further. So instead, he stood up, stretched, and paced towards the door.

“This isn’t what we should be focusing on right now, no?” he asked as he stood by the door. The buzz was already starting; he could already spot Koujaku’s fans waiting by the corner. “It’s your big day today. Just… focus on what you need to do.”

He definitely didn’t want to be the reason for Koujaku to lose his composure today.

He heard Koujaku releasing a mushy laugh from behind him. When he turned around, he was already standing behind him, joining him to stare out of the window.

“Yeah,” he said, voice lower. “I couldn’t have made it without you.”

That wasn’t Aoba’s point at all but he wasn’t in any state to counter further either. When the door was opened, sunshine poured into the room as Aoba retreated, making space for Koujaku to welcome his customer. He needed to sweep the aggravating murmur of discomfiture out of his head, trying to take his own advice as he started convening all the utilities that Koujaku would need for the rest of the day.

It was nothing too different – Koujaku was merely doing what he had been doing for the past years, the only distinct difference being he now had a roof to work under. The atmosphere was less frenetic than how it usually was; there were proper seats to house his waiting customers and there was no need for them to wait under the sun. While Koujaku occupied himself with his job, Aoba served his customer, talked with them, and played the essential role to make sure that Koujaku was in the best comfort to work.

It felt surreal being able to witness the whole process of Koujaku working in such closeness. He had an idea of what Koujaku had been up to but this level of affection exposed him to a Koujaku that he had no idea of. It was one part of Koujaku he’d never gotten the chance to know. He looked so off-the-cuff, yet serious all at the same time. He laughed at jokes, smiled at gentle compliments, and whenever he was to meet eyes with Aoba, he’d smirked clumsily before he quickly returned to whatever he was doing.

Aoba was sure that he was the same as well. Despite them being together now, there were still times like this when he found himself hard to face Koujaku as naturally as he wanted, often finding his mind being thrown into a blank piece of paper and his words stuck in his throat.

This, he concluded, was how being in love felt like.

The day felt shorter than usual. Benishigure’s members stopped by for a visit when it was almost evening, with Kou animatedly carrying Ren while Hagima scrubbed the floor. Aoba sat in a corner, watched with exhilaration as Koujaku greeted his members. They were all wearing huge smiles on their faces, some of them prodding around the room, some ushering customers out and some comforting crying customers, convincing them to come tomorrow.

“Aoba-san! Thank you for your hard work!” Kou marched towards him, Ren wagging his tail in his lap as he collapsed into a bench by Aoba’s side.

“Thanks for dropping by,” Aoba beamed. “How’s the base?”

“Everything’s fine,” he said, playing with Ren’s paws. “We promised to keep it intact when Koujaku-san’s not around.”

“Koujaku is lucky to have you,” Aoba chuckled.

“ _We_ are grateful to have Koujaku-san,” Kou said with a snigger. “It’s all thanks to him now that everything is established and peaceful.”

Aoba wouldn’t expect less from Koujaku. With another nimble snicker, he ruffled Ren’s fur, pushing his attention back to where Koujaku was speaking to Hagima.

“Aoba-san, are you okay?” Kou asked.

“Hm? Fine, why did you ask?”

“You look tired,” Kou said, handing Ren back to Aoba.

“Ah… Maybe just a little,” Aoba smiled resentfully. “It’s been a long day after all.”

“Please get some rest when you head back later,” Kou said, noticeably concerned. “Koujaku-san must be tired too.”

“Yeah,” Aoba sighed, eyes still stuck on Koujaku. “He’s the most tired person here.”

When Koujaku waved at him, he returned it without a second thought. He didn’t fancy the idea of having Koujaku to work himself out like this. But there were things that he couldn’t help – and this was one of it.

The night trundled over, bringing a threat of storm. They were left with no one but themselves as they sat against the counter, on the floor, without a word. The fading of the sunlight also meant fading of the heat. Koujaku wrapped an arm around Aoba, tucking his chin down against his head as he released a truncated sigh. The air was ice-cold it was hard to breathe, but Aoba felt warm and safe in Koujaku’s embrace, feeling as if they’d just returned from war and were now coddling themselves in the afterglow of victory.

“You’ve worked hard,” Aoba broke the silence. “Customers seem happy.”

“I hope so,” Koujaku said. “I’ve never done this before.”

“You’re doing fine,” Aoba said insouciantly. “Everyone thinks so.”

Koujaku smiled amiably. Aoba was familiar with this – how Koujaku would tend to be too-humble and only spill his hesitations when Aoba was the lone person in his presence.

“I’ll do better,” he said.

But, across the many times Aoba had come to reproof him for being so, he’d come to pick himself up pretty fast. He probably still needed his own pace of time to convince himself that he was doing great and that he deserved everything he had worked hard for but there was positive improvement that Aoba could witness from him and that itself was praiseworthy.

He patted Koujaku’s head, a sign of kudos, as he closed his eyes.

“Tomorrow will always be a better day… ah.”

“What is it?”

“Remember when I talked about wanting to cut your hair?” he asked with a smirk, only to be responded by Koujaku’s inquisitive expression.

“What about that?”

“How about tomorrow?”

Koujaku gaped. He looked at Aoba, then at the equipment on the counter, swallowing down his throat as he did.

“T-tomorrow will be a greater day, huh?”

Aoba didn’t need him to tell him the answer to know what it was.

“It’s going to be _Tamaokuri_ soon, isn’t it?” he continued, elaborating his point. “Thought of grooming you better before we meet your mom.”

“It better be better,” Koujaku snickered, pulling himself away to avoid Aoba’s belligerent slap. “Speaking of grooming, I could say the same to you, I guess.”

“What?” Aoba frowned with a pout.

“Your hair, it’s become longer,” Koujaku explained, fingers combing through Aoba’s long strands of hair. “Want to keep it or…?”

Aoba looked away. He could always trust Koujaku with his hair. To be honest, he didn’t even know himself if he’d prefer a longer hair or a shorter one. Now that his hair was almost back to its length before Koujaku snipped it off a year back, it was perhaps the time for another change.

Many things had happened in a year…

“Leave it but…” he paused, then giving Koujaku a tongue-in-cheek look. “How about I leave the styling to you then?”

“Hmmm,” Koujaku considered, hand supporting his chin. “I guess you could count me on that.”

“Well, it’s a deal then. I cut your hair tomorrow, and you style mine.”

“And _Tamaokuri_ is the day after.”

Aoba swallowed down his throat. “L-let’s just hope everything goes fine then.”

He was countered with Koujaku’s gaudy laugh, the lustre of it rolling into his heart, giving him assurance and the warmth he very much needed for this cold night.

 

* * *

 

If Koujaku hadn’t rushed him to bed the previous night, he’d probably stay up the entire night reading about hairdressing and waking up not remembering half of the things he’d read the previous day. While Koujaku unremittingly reminded him that he’d keep an eye on him while he cut, Aoba could still feel the eerie jittery within him when he stood in front of the mirror of their new shop, with Koujaku sitting on the chair, all ready for Aoba to make the first snip. Koujaku’s hair was soft and smooth under his touch, as he’d expect from the hairdresser himself. His fingers shivered ever so slightly when he felt the velvetiness of it, fearing that one wrong move might ruin the entire thing. Koujaku was a prominent figure after all; his appearance had been his biggest trademark, and Aoba certainly didn’t want to be the one to ruin this very impression he’d built for himself.

He took a long time staring into their reflections: Koujaku wore the best smile he always did, portraying perfect enthusiasm towards what Aoba was about to do now. After countless times of him swallowing down his throat, he picked the comb up, unhurriedly yet cautiously fixing the strands into portions that he would want to work on.

“Don’t worry,” Koujaku’s sudden voice almost made him drop the comb. “I’ll look after you.”

He felt a stab in his pride. “I-I’ll be fine.”

“Of course you will,” Koujaku grinned insolently. “I can’t wait for the end result.”

He regretted saying anything at all, now the pressure was real.

The snipping sound was everything they could hear for the next hour. Aoba felt as if he’d never concentrated so hard his entire life. He attempted to memorize every strands of hair, every parts of Koujaku’s head, and whenever he was to meet eyes with Koujaku’s reflection, he’d hastily look away, feeling his heart skip a beat as he forgot what he was about to do next.

It was a long, torturous two hours of haircut, but it made him realize why Koujaku was wearing such an arduous face when he cut _his_ hair the last time. With their positions switched, he started to comprehend how Koujaku felt despite him, like Koujaku, telling him that he wouldn’t mind the slenderest if his hair was handled by Koujaku. Koujaku must have felt the same as well – he must have placed prodigious faith in Aoba and regardless if Aoba was to fail or succeed critically, he’d definitely not mind a single bit.

Just like Aoba.

“I… I think I’m done,” Aoba said at long last, after what felt like an eternity.

“Let’s see,” Koujaku said, turning his head sideways, eyes brightening when he recognised the difference of his hair. “You… cut it short.”

His hair after his shoulders were gone, leaving his neck naked, a reflection of what he’d done to Aoba a year back.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Aoba asked, sounding faintly fretful.

“Ah, no, no, I’m fine with it, don’t get me wrong,” Koujaku chortled. “Just a bit surprised.”

“Do you like it?” Aoba asked again. He watched with intensity as Koujaku stood and took a hand mirror, just so he could have a better look at his hair from the back.

“You leave the bangs on,” he said, noticing how unscathed his bangs were, still covering half of his face.

“I thought… maybe…” He couldn’t continue what he wanted to say. But Koujaku managed to apprehend it anyway. With a smile, he seized a handful of his bangs, extending one free hand towards Aoba, hinting him for the scissors and, before Aoba could even grasp what was happening, he’d snipped his bangs off, revealing the entire part of his face, including the tattoos on his face.

“H-hey…”

“Done,” he grinned, releasing the strands of hair onto the floor as Aoba watched in mild hilarity.

“You…”

“Hmm?”

“You… did it, you…” he gawped, still trying to understand what he’d just seen.

“I thought you’d do it,” Koujaku said. “But I guess it’s something I need to do it by myself.”

He really didn’t expect Koujaku to go to this extent. He was used to seeing Koujaku with his bangs; even though they were to share intimate moments in the bedroom, lighting was always dimmed and he’d always need to squint to catch sight of his tattoo. They were there as innately as Aoba always assumed them to. They never felt out of place, as if they were always part of Koujaku, despite them being hidden most of the time.

“What’s the matter?” Koujaku asked, a face of distress.

“It’s…” Aoba begun, unsure of how to phrase his words.

“Do I still look good?” Koujaku asked, purposefully putting his hands on his hips as he pulled his best grin.

It was then that Aoba noticed the ephemeral wavering in his eyes as he did as much as staring for a bit too long at the tattoos on his face. They never felt foreign, but they sent a prick into his heart and he’ll never be able to get over the fact of how those were marks that he would never be able to expunge, regardless of how long time would pass.

“Hello?” Koujaku waved a hand in front of his face. “Falling for me again?”

Pouting, he smacked Koujaku hard on the head, and was about to tussle himself out of the way when Koujaku pulled him back by the waist, right into his embrace.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just a joke,” he said, nuzzling his nose against Aoba’s head. “But thank you for cutting my hair for me, I think it looks remarkable.”

Aoba could no longer take it any further. Turning around, he scowled at Koujaku’s direction, then cupping his face. He stared for one whole minute, and while Koujaku was about to ask what he was up to, he tiptoed, kissing the tattoos on his face where he had full access now, and said,

“Yes, I’m falling in love with you again. You keep showing me how strong you are and how strong you could be, what do you expect me to feel? You have always been my hero and you’ve proved it to me again and again, it’s… it’s unfair,” he stuttered at the end of his words. “Now you would need to prove it to me again because I’m going to sit right here,” he said and proceeded to sit on the chair where Koujaku was sitting on. “and let you style my hair. Make sure to leave up to my expectation, alright?”

He avoided Koujaku’s eyes, hitched a breath when he felt Koujaku’s hands on his head, and almost bit his own tongue when he heard the snipping of scissors from above his head.

He didn’t want to look Koujaku in the eyes; he already knew what he was about to say anyway. And he wasn’t sure if he could stand looking at how beholden a gaze Koujaku was giving him, despite him trying to act all tough and collected at this very moment.

 

* * *

 

 

One year today, he’d doubted if he was really ready to meet Koujaku’s mom – a figure he grew up with, one whom he always thought of as his own mother. But now, as they sat in the bus heading towards the hotel where they last resided, he felt a lighter weight in his heart, even anticipation. Despite the slight nausea he’d experienced from the long journey, he started to be able to appreciate the scenery better as he hummed blithely along the journey. Ren and Beni continued debating about knowledge they gathered from their journey back home while Koujaku gazed out of the window, only giving Aoba well-lit smiles when they met eyes.

The owner of the hotel was as openhearted as usual. They managed to spend their time more leisurely throughout this visit that the last; Koujaku brought him around town, even though Aoba couldn’t say that it was very much a town itself. The town was a maze of narrow winding streets, the sidewalks were smooth grey stones, joined with precision that made the joints almost invisible. Mainland looked like an unfinished painting; on each sides of houses are separated by yards large enough to accommodate farm animals, and the residents looked as if they were experiencing a ten-year gap with the world, cossetting in their very own comfort space.

Koujaku walked as if he’d known these streets his whole life, as if every one of this scenery was etched sharply into his brain, giving him a sort of impact that he’d never anticipated. Aoba merely followed his steps, not knowing where they were heading to, not knowing if they even had a destination in mind –

\-- until when they stopped in front of what looked like a colossal mansion that he found his heart picking up speed.

“Koujaku…” he called out inaudibly. He didn’t know if this was part of Koujaku’s plan, but by the look on his face, he seemed like he was taken aback just as much as it did Aoba.

“Ah… it’s just,” he started with hitches, seemingly still trying to understand the circumstances. “I guess walking back here has been such a common routine for me that I just come to walk here naturally.”

He scratched the back of his head, feeling self-conscious at the imprudent steps he’d taken. Aoba, however, walked pass him and towards the mansion. It looked uninhabited.

“Does anyone stay here?” he asked, attempting to peek into the house.

“No more,” Koujaku said. “None ever since that night.”

He didn’t want to probe further; he really didn’t want to. He clenched his fists, bolstering his composure before he came to stand at the door.

The building looked utterly traditional, something Aoba would never see in Midorijima. It felt so forlorn, so empty. How long had it been since it was filled with people and laughter? How long had it been since liveliness was a routine in this very space?

How long had it been since liveliness was a routine in this very space?

He pushed the door lightly. It opened with one easy push as he walked in, with Koujaku following guardedly by his side. The doors and windows were covered with copious layer of dust that looked like it has been untouched for years. They moved further into the house, the floor creaked with every step they took. When they came to an end, Aoba stopped to look at Koujaku, who was flaunting discernible unease.

“Do you mind?” he asked, pointing at the sliding door right in front of them. He had already gotten an idea of where this would lead to; it might be a part of his past that Koujaku never wanted to touch ever again but for Aoba, it was still a part of _him_ that he never knew and the mere thought was what driving his raw impulse at this very moment.

Everything that had happened to Koujaku while he wasn’t by his side, the haunting night that changed his entire life, that had urged him to live, to come back, and everything that had fostered Koujaku into the man he was today – everything was here; right here, just a step away.

Koujaku nodded in the end as Aoba stroked his hand with a beam.

His past was no longer present. Before this, Aoba wasn’t able to be by his side when he had to face every other cruelty that was thrown at him by himself. But now, Aoba was right here, and he’d sworn to help Koujaku through this, regardless of how hard-hitting it’d be.

When the door was pulled open, he looked around; the space was vacant, the grass trimmed, streaming water silent and peaceful. It seemed like the most solitary place in the world but Aoba didn’t need much conviction to know how much blood had once flooded this place, how many bodies were slashed, how a boy stood in the midst of this massacre, just to be hit by the reality that he’d destroyed the one thing that was the most precious to him with his own hands.

It was hard to even imagine how it once felt for Koujaku. Nothing of what he’d done was on his own will, and the very fact that he had to face everything by himself, with the mere thought of coming back to see Aoba being his only support did nothing but pain Aoba even more.

“Koujaku,” he called out. Koujaku jumped a little, but smiled nonetheless.

“I’m fine,” he said, reading the question on Aoba’s face. “It’s been a long time after all.”

“So this was where everything happened,” Aoba said unhurriedly, looking around.

Koujaku nodded. “That room,” he said, pointing to one room in a corner. “was where I got these,” he ended by pointing at the tattoos on his body.

“It was painful, right?” Aoba asked. Koujaku closed his eyes, as if trying to recall what happened.

“Painful, of course,” he confessed. “But nothing hurts more than being unable to protect mother. And after that…” He stared at his hands, eyes wavering, emotions unreadable.

“It’s okay,” Aoba was quick to comfort. “It’s the past. You didn’t ask for it.”

Koujaku sighed profoundly. “I know, it’s just…”

Aoba grinned then, ruffling Koujaku on the hair. It still felt peculiar to see Koujaku without his long strands of hair, the tattoos on his face more prominent that they ever were. But Aoba found every one of those details nothing but charming. He couldn’t help but kiss the marks when he saw them, taking Koujaku in far-reaching amazement.

“It’s part of you that I accept,” he said. “I’m glad to have witnessed this place with you. It’s not pleasant, that’s for sure. But it’s a part of you that you’re slowly accepting and getting over with. I’m still proud of you, regardless of what you think.”

Sometimes Koujaku wondered what will _really_ happen to him if he never had Aoba by his side.

He was slowly but surely getting over his past; Aoba could already see it in the grin he was giving him now, and when he walked, his steps were sprightlier, his head held high, his eyes firmed with fortitude.

Ah, this is my hero after all, Aoba thought as they walked out of the house, hand-in-hand. And there was absolutely nothing his hero couldn’t overcome.

They spent the rest of their day meandering around the streets. There were shadows of Midorijima in certain corners, but mostly, Mainland was engulfed in profound traditional essence that made Aoba feel as if they were being brought back in time. It made sense of a lot of things to him though, particularly on Koujaku’s personal preference. He laughed when a few ladies approached him on the street, all of which flattering him for looking as if he just walked out of a _bushi_ film set. When they finally settled back in the hotel, they treated each other with good dose of _sake_ , resulting in Aoba curling himself under the thick blanket after a good tantrum thrown at Koujaku for flustering him and finding Koujaku joining him under the sheet not long after, his huge pair of arms wrapping him into a heaty cocoon.

 

* * *

 

 

Climbing up the hill was no longer something distressing for him. The forest was ancient. The trees thick and deep-rooted, roots twisted along the way like colossal snakes. It was early summer morning and a frosty chill hung the air. Bugs whizzed in and out of their ears, whirring, as they made their way up, to where they had once been together a year back.

“Looks like some cleaning is needed,” Koujaku beamed at the tombstone. Under the steady glow of the morning light, the tombstone seemed to have its own aura. Koujaku ran a finger along the black-graved lettering, the stone on his fingers drew a solitary smile on his face.

“Let’s get working then,” Aoba said, taking his jacket off as he rolled his sleeves. “We don’t have all day for this.”

They started with getting rid of wild grasses, sweat soaked their backs as they worked, droplets of them dripping onto the ground. The sun was quick to rise and it would only become hotter but none of those seemed to be concerning them. They worked in silence, sporadically throwing each other trifling smiles. The trees are alive with birds and squirrels, birdsong comes in lulls and bursts, drone of insects humming and bustling filled the silence between them.

When they were done, they sat under a tree, catching their breath. The sun was properly up by now, its light passed through any miniature hole it can reach, illuminating the green background. They were exhausted, but they both wore gratifying smiles as they gazed at the cleaned gravestone beyond them.

“Hope this does it for mother,” Koujaku muttered.

“I’m sure she’s happy,” Aoba topped on.

Koujaku stood up then, patting branches off his kimono before he strolled towards the tombstone.

“Mother,” Koujaku started. He sounded so discreet, as if he was speaking from under his breath. “How are you?”

“Aunty,” Aoba followed suit. “It’s been a while.”

They allowed a fleeting moment of silence in between them before Koujaku took a step closer. “It’s been a year since we came. A lot of things had happened between us and… we would like to tell you something.” He shot a flickering gaze at Aoba, who nodded with a confident smile. “We’re together – me and Aoba. And we would like you to know.”

He wanted to leave the talking to Koujaku; Koujaku might have prepared for this confession for as long as he could only imagine. When Koujaku gripped his hand, all he did was nodding at the tombstone, a sign of agreement.

“Koujaku’s a great man,” he said, unable to stop himself. “Don’t worry about him, I’ll take care of him.”

He remembered when he was small, Koujaku’s mother would always make them nice food while they played in the lawn. She would always smile at them, patting Aoba on the head, and when Aoba left, she’d waved at him, still with the smile, saying,

“ _Thank you for dropping back, Aoba, please take care of Koujaku in the future too._ ”

When he thought about it, he wondered if she had already predicted what would happen to her not long after they departed, or if she had taken Aoba as the person who’d looked after her son after she’s gone.

Aoba never knew; he was too young to know back then.

But now…

“Koujaku is in safe hands,” he reiterated. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“Aoba…” Koujaku certainly didn’t expect Aoba to say this at all, his dumbfounded expression had given him away. But he was quick to recover. Grasping Aoba’s hand more resolutely, he said, sounding more strongminded than before.

“And you don’t need to worry about Aoba either, I’ll take good care of him.”

It was like fulfilling a promise he’d made more than a decade back. Sorrows were still present, his past would still haunt him once in a while, but there were promises made for the future that he could not relinquish, and those would be his pillar of support, his reason that living was not an option, but a priority.

“Oh, and we opened a new shop,” Koujaku said, his spirit obviously higher than before. “It’s been… going well, I suppose.”

“It’ll go well,” Aoba said. “Well, if I need to—“

“Shhh,” Koujaku pressed a hand on top of Aoba’s head. “You don’t need to.”

“—eventually,” Aoba continued. “I guess we could see how it goes.”

Koujaku merely elevated a smile. Returning his stare to the tombstone, he kneeled, wiping away fine dust that had started to gather on the black-inked words on the marble.

Aoba was sure that if they were able to see his mother now, she would surely be wearing a heartening smile; just like the smile she always had when she sent Aoba off. And he was sure that they shared the same image in their heads, for their impression of Koujaku’s mother had always been the same.

 

The stopover was no longer as anguishing as the last. Koujaku seemed to be a livelier man; he smirked as Aoba complained about his impudence in front of his mother, gave the tombstone another nippy wipe before they made their way down the hill. The unpleasant sentiments that’s been haunting him seemed to be wearing off, slowly but surely. There would be unhealable scars, sure. But there would be a lot of pleasant memories that would make up for them, and that was why their future now was longer than the past they’d gone through.

As Koujaku sat by the window with a _sake_ cup in a hand later that night, with his built outline refined by the silhouette of the moon, he released a contented sigh, which Aoba managed to catch when he came right out of the bathroom.

“What’s with that sigh?” he asked with a shrill frown.

“Oh,” Koujaku breathed, discernibly taken by surprise. “Nothing, just wondering how much time had passed and how many things had happened throughout these years.”

Aoba settled by his side, joining him to gaze at the moon.

“Indeed,” he simply said. “Time flies.”

Koujaku nodded. He raised the _sake_ cup to his mouth, drowning it down his throat with one big gulp then putting it on the window sill before he turned around to pull Aoba onto his lap.

“Hmmm…” he hummed.

“W-what?” Koujaku was habitually intimate; he loved cuddling him, and Aoba didn’t mind it at all personally. He was safe in Koujaku’s huge pair of arms. While he was riveted in Koujaku’s close-range embrace, he could feel Koujaku’s heart beating against his back, steadily, just like how it did now.

“You were so small when I hugged you back then,” Koujaku explained, _whispering_ into Aoba’s ear. “Now you’re bigger, but still small,” he ended with a sassy snigger.

Aoba was about to retort, but ended up swallowing his words down instead. Koujaku was evidently clingier than usual, perhaps because of how he was reminded by his past earlier, of all the anguish he thought he’d forgotten. He might not have done it persistently, but actions were louder than words, and there was no way Aoba could push him away when he needed him the most.

He leaned his back against Koujaku’s chest, closing his eyes, blithely engulfed in Koujaku’s warm scent and the unruffled thumping of his heartbeats. Outside the window, a canopy of luminous stars emerged amongst the sea of blackness. A silver of moonlight spilled into the room, not enough to ignite the sweltering hues of the room, but enough to outline the fine furniture in the space. It was a self-contained atmosphere, the gap between them zero, soothing and assuring.

“Hey, Aoba,” Koujaku voiced out all of a sudden. “Thank you for coming with me this year. Again.”

“What are you talking about?” Aoba glowered. “I’ll come with you again next year. And the year after, and after. Like what we promised.”

Koujaku smiled. He hugged Aoba closer, burying his head in between the crook where neck and shoulder met. It tickled, but Aoba endured it. In the next minute, Koujaku was turning his jaw around, where he was immediately met with an earnest breath of kiss.

There was this uncanny sense of melancholy that was hitting him deep in the depth of his heart when he felt Koujaku’s lips against his. It was a form of contentment, of relief, and somewhere in the midst of their intensity hid a vague hint of uncertainty that would often result in them giving each other more desperate kisses. They clung to each other like they’d miss each other if they were to let go, they tasted each other as if it was their first time feeling each other. They wanted to tell each other how much they meant to them but words weren’t enough; they were never enough.

Actions weren’t enough either, but they tried, they never wanted to let go of any other opportunities to hold each other firm in their arms now that they were finally each other’s, by each other’s side, and had all the time in their world to repent for the times they’d lost for the past years.

Koujaku’s hand creeped into Aoba’s yukata, guiding him to turn around at the same time. Koujaku knew his weak spots; he knew that his resistance would crumble the moment his lips met his neck. A hand ran through his hair, brushing deftly as the kisses became harder and more urgent. His other free hand slid around his waist, his kisses now on Aoba’s shoulder as the yukata slipped off it.

“I’ve checked,” Koujaku mumbled against his skin, sending a cold shiver down Aoba’s back. “There’s no one staying next to us this time.”

Aoba chuckled. “Seriously, you…”

"So you can let out as loud of a voice you need. Let me hear your voice, Aoba."

Every kiss Koujaku gave him sent pure pleasure all over his body; he’s always so gentle yet so passionate, so light yet so impatient. There were all sorts of contradicting signals in Koujaku’s actions, pulling him into a lost as he helped Koujaku off _his_ yukata.

He loved everything of Koujaku – from the swirls of black patterns on his face to his body to the confident, tender smile he always gave him when they came into close contact. Those were forms of struggles, of _being alive_ and of a man who had chosen to fight than giving up.

He straddled on Koujaku’s lap, feeling his half-hard dick poking against his. Heat rose to his face the moment he noticed that, but, despite Koujaku’s own flustered face, he brought his hand towards his dick, pumping droopily.

“So… this time…”

“I’ll leave it up to you, as usual,” Koujaku answered, already knowing what Aoba was about to ask.

Aoba looked away. His head was heating up faster than usual and he blamed it on how Koujaku was staring – or rather, _ogling_ – at him at the moment. He pulled himself back, out of Koujaku’s grasp, and bent down. The faint glisten of pre-cum had his dick convulsing in eagerness. He licked it experimentally, bitterness spread on his tongue as he took in a mouthful of the head. The last time they were here, he’d chosen to use his hand; he thought perhaps he’d choose the other option this time round, grasping perfect dominance as he did. Koujaku’s dick fit perfectly in his mouth, the head hitting the back of his throat as his nose wriggled at the thick pubic hair at the root of Koujaku’s dick. He pulled it in, then out, in and out, for a multiple times, hand rubbing against balls, massaging it with pressure Koujaku loved the most. His dick grew sultrier and harder in his mouth with every suck he gave. It was not before long that he realized that having the length in his mouth was starting to choke him that he took it out, wiping saliva off his lips with the back of his mouth and shooting a flustered-looking Koujaku a quenched smirk.

“Ready?” he asked, crawling back onto Koujaku’s lap without waiting for the answer.

“W-wait, how about you?” Koujaku shoved agitatedly.

“I’m ready,” Aoba replied sketchily.

“You… you did it in—“

Aoba shushed him by pressing his lips aggressively against Koujaku. The many times of intercourse they shared had given Aoba the experience he needed. He _knew_ that they’d make love here, especially since tonight would be the last time they’d be staying in this hotel. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t been doing enough when they were at home, though. It was the sentimental value this place was radiating that had given Aoba the confidence, even though it still flustered him significantly when he prepared himself in the shower earlier.

“Aoba…” Koujaku breathed in between pants. The thought of Aoba spreading himself clean and ready for Koujaku in the shower, _anticipating_ this moment, must have given him the biggest trigger he needed. He placed both of his hands on Aoba’s hips, escorting him upwards, with Aoba’s hands on his dick and prudently pressing it against his hole.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Koujaku asked again.

Aoba nodded. He pushed himself downwards, burying the head of Koujaku’s dick right into his ass as he released a muted, satisfying growl.

“Did you… grow bigger?” he asked, sweat beading on his forehead, droplets of it trickling down his cheek as he continued pushing Koujaku’s dick deeper into him.

“W-who knows?” Koujaku responded breathily. His dick dragged along his inner walls; it was cramped, _hot_ , and the whole process left them out of breath.

It took huge effort to finally settling himself comfortably inside of Aoba. As they both released profound moans, Aoba slumped against Koujaku, their sweaty chests sticking against each other, convoyed by their viscous panting.

“I’m too old for this,” Aoba moaned.

“Don’t say that,” Koujaku chuckled. “ _I_ am the old one here, no need to worry who would be worn out first because—“

In the next second, Aoba’s hands were on Koujaku’s mouth, stopping him from saying any further. After making sure that Koujaku had gotten the signal, he placed his hands on his shoulders instead and started moving his hips, pulling Koujaku’s dick out and pushing it back in again. The first few thrusts were challenging but the motion eventually became smoother the more he repeated the act. Koujaku’s growl grew louder throughout the process. Aoba could barely hear his own, being too enthralled over the intense action that was happening on his lower half.

“K-Koujaku… ah!”

Koujaku’s hands were on his chest when he fell once again. He gave out an ostentatious shriek when Koujaku fondled with his nipples, white splattered his head, his eyes sputtered in stars; he thought he’d come from just that.

“You’re as sensitive as usual,” Koujaku chortled.

“Wonder whose fault that is,” Aoba managed to pull a smirk. His legs were weak, he couldn’t feel his knees, he won’t be able to keep up at this rate.

“Aoba,” Koujaku _growled_ before he was pushed backwards, back hitting the futon and all he could see was Koujaku’s face, drenched in sweat, the tattoos on his face clear as day.

He could already tell what’s going to happen next and sure enough, Koujaku’s thrusts became rougher, harder, more punctuated. He was driven by mere impulses; the urge for pleasure, to pleasure, to feel, to be felt and Aoba could feel every ounce of it clear as day.

Koujaku _desired_ for him, and Aoba wanted to accommodate his lust to the very last drop; he wanted to take them all, cherish them, and remind Koujaku that he could be _this_ feverish as long as he stayed alive.

When both of them reached their peak, he found himself patting Koujaku on the back of his head, heard Koujaku’s truncated sob into his shoulder, telling him enough that this was what Koujaku had always wanted – to protect, and to be protected.

 

* * *

 

 

“This place is so happening.”

Three days after they’d returned from Mainland, Mizuki stopped by for a visit, just in time to catch them before they closed their shop.

“Yo, Mizuki! Finally here!” Koujaku greeted with a vast grin, complemented by a swift wave of his hand.

“You called him over?” Aoba asked, loosening his ponytail after pushing one last chair back to where it belonged.

“I know he’d drop by,” Koujaku clarified.

“Yeah, can’t miss this, can’t I?” Mizuki grinned. “And here you go, very belated congratulatory present to celebrate your shop’s opening.”

“Oh? I didn’t expect this but thank you!” Koujaku laughed as he approached Mizuki, who’d placed the two wrapped bottle-like presents on the counter. “ _Sake_?”

“Sorry for not being very creative,” Mizuki scratched the back of his head. “Can’t figure out what you’d like since it feels like you’ve already gotten everything you need.”

“Haha, of course,” Koujaku snorted, throwing a hasty smirk at Aoba’s direction. “I can’t ask for more. But really, thanks for this, I owe you one.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Mizuki then looked around the shop; it was empty besides the three of them now, despite many customers and some of Benishigure’s members who were gathered outside the shop.

“It’s doing pretty well, huh?” Mizuki said.

“It is,” Koujaku agreed. “And it’s thanks to everyone.”

“You were the one who wanted to do it, pat yourself,” Mizuki teased. “And Aoba too, right?”

“Huh?” Aoba turned around, surprised at the sudden mention of his name.

“When are you guys going to tell everyone else?”

He almost dropped the basket of accessories he was about to place on the counter.

“W-what?!”

“Your relationship,” Mizuki pulled a sneer, eyeballing from Koujaku to Aoba.

Koujaku and Aoba looked at each other, both giving each other panicky signals.

“Oh, c’mon, you think I wouldn’t realize? Though I have to admit that it’s a bit lonely that you aren’t telling me and you call yourselves my buddies.”

“Haha, is it really that obvious?” Koujaku chuckled gauchely, one hand scratching the back of his head.

“What do you think? You act like a pair of married couple, anyone would have known. And I bet they already know about it anyway, you just need to make it official.”

It wasn’t like they didn’t want to tell anyone, but the question of _how_ to tell everyone remained to be their biggest qualm.

“We will, one day,” Koujaku said at long last. He eyed the crowd outside of his shop for a bit, then back at Aoba, who was deterring his gaze. “I think it’s time to make it official too.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” Mizuki said with a grin. “Anyway, I have to run. Take care, both of you! Drop by Black Needle when you’re free!”

“Sure!”

The shop returned to both of their space after Mizuki’s departure. While Koujaku was about to return to finish up whatever that was left of his chores, Aoba voiced up, sounding as if he’d been wanting to say something for the longest time.

“How do you think we should tell them?”

“Hmm?” Koujaku hummed. He stopped whatever he was doing and walked towards Aoba, taking the basket off his hands and putting it on the counter before he slung his arms around Aoba’s waist. “Let’s see… maybe I could head to your house first.”

“For?”

“Well, if you’re talking about officiating our relationship, I guess I’d need to do a proper proposal, then—“

“W-wait, wait, wait, wait!” Aoba pushed against Koujaku’s chest, his face a look of torment. “Are you saying that you’re… that you’re going to… to…”

Koujaku nodded with a laugh. Leaning in, he kissed Aoba on the cheek, then hugging him closer so that he could brush his nose against Aoba’s forehead.

“It’s time to move forward, don’t you think?”

There was nothing Aoba could say to retort him. He had a point, and Aoba wasn’t against any of it. He just didn’t expect things to move so… fast that he wasn’t at all prepared for it.

“I… I’ll leave everything to you,” he said at long last, refusing to look Koujaku in the eyes.

“I’ll try my best.”

Koujaku didn’t need to. He was already at his best; regardless of what he did, he was always trying. He never gave up.

The mere idea of starting a new future with Koujaku sent a pang of warmth into his chest. Koujaku was his childhood friend, his hero, a person he looked up to. And this very man was going to be his husband soon.

One whom he was sure that would be his best company throughout the rest of his life -- at last.

 


End file.
